Demon Games [4] (26 page)

Molok held up a warning hand to Trey, who had also made to move towards Alexa. ‘I think that this is close enough.’

Both teenagers glared at the demon, who answered their hate-filled looks with deep, low laughter. ‘I thought that it would be a good idea for us all to remember what we are doing here, and what we are competing for.’

‘We?’

‘What
you
are competing for.’

Trey ignored the Hell-Kraken, turning his attention back to Alexa. She was wearing a short white tunic, similar to his own, with a belt round the middle, and he was instantly reminded of pictures he’d seen in history classes of Greeks and Romans. Her long black hair was piled up high on her head, adding to the effect, but she wore a strange necklace about her throat, the sight of which, for reasons he couldn’t explain, made Trey deeply uncomfortable.

‘
Have they hurt you, Alexa?
’ he asked, using the thought-transference spell.

‘I can’t speak to you like that now, Trey. But no, they haven’t hurt me.’

Trey frowned, unable to understand why she had not been able to use the magic.

‘How is Philippa?’

Alexa gave him a strange look and was about to respond when Molok interrupted.

‘I think that we will leave this conversation for another time,’ the demon lord said. ‘Your little girlfriend, or whatever she is to you, is safe, and she will be able to witness your heroic efforts to try to rescue her. She will be by my side at all times.’ Molok stepped forward and took the chain attached to Alexa’s handcuffs from one of the guards, giving it a little shake and causing the heavy links to rattle against each other.

Then he smiled over at Trey, enjoying the anger and hatred that he’d stirred up in the boy. ‘Fight well, champion. And remember that each fight is to the death.’ The smile slipped from the demon’s face. ‘I will not tolerate any of the nonsense that I allowed you to get away with back at the school. Any disobedience will result in a swift and merciless death for you and your pretty friend here.’

Trey looked at Alexa, unable to put into words the things he wanted to say to her.

‘Let’s go,’ Molok said. The guards moved back to allow the demon lord to pass, falling in on either side of him. For a moment, Alexa was left alone in the doorway. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Trey.

I
love you.
Alexa mouthed the words, a brief and sad smile touching her lips.

Trey had just taken a step towards her when the chain attached to her wrists suddenly went tight, and she was yanked away, a huge guard immediately occupying the space where she’d stood. The nether-creature slammed the door in the face of the advancing boy.

Trey pounded on the heavy wooden door, shouting out Alexa’s name.

Allowing the rage to take him over, he morphed.

The huge lycanthrope took hold of the metal bars set into the small hatch of the door. Putting one foot up against the wall beside the door frame he leaned back, pulling with all his might, the muscles in his arms, legs and back bulging with the effort. For a second nothing happened, and then there was a terrible splintering sound as the door was ripped free of its hinges. Trey tossed it aside and it landed on the floor with a huge crash. The guard spun about, and that would have been the last thing the demon ever did had it not been for Shentob. The little demon had been coming down the corridor when Alexa had been dragged off, and he quickly ran to position himself between Trey and the guard, both hands held up high in front of him, eyes locked on to the werewolf’s.

‘No, Trey Laporte. You must not lose control now or all is lost. Please! Shentob is here now. He is here to help you. Calm yourself, Trey Laporte. You
must
calm yourself.’

Trey looked in the direction that Alexa had been taken. There was no sign of her. He looked back down at his friend, who nodded encouragingly at him.

‘She is safe as long as you fight,’ Shentob said, reaching up and placing his hands on Trey’s abdomen, gently nudging the giant back into the room. ‘We must get you ready – yes, we must. Shentob will tell you everything he has discovered. Not all of it – there is too much. But he will tell you how to defeat your next opponent.’ They were back in the room now.

Shentob looked at the guard and then at the broken door on the floor. ‘We need some privacy,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the door. The lycanthrope stepped forward, and a deep, rumbling growl filled the small room as he picked up the door and placed it back into the wrecked frame as best he could.

‘Good.’ Shentob nodded encouragingly at Trey. Then he gestured towards the low bench by his side. ‘Sit, please. Sit and listen to what old Shentob has to say.’

‘You are to fight a Gurgot.’

‘
What’s a Gurgot when it’s at home?’

‘They’re ugly, stupid creatures. But strong. Very strong. They like to fight at a distance. Long arms, you see? Long arms ending in terrible hooks. They strike, quickly, like this.’ The little demon shot out an arm like a piston. ‘They are very quick. Very quick and very accurate.’

‘
That doesn’t sound too good.’

‘No. They are difficult creatures to fight, and they often do well at the Games.’

‘
Great.’

Trey got up off the bench and shook his huge head at the enormity of the task that faced him. Turning back to glance at his aide, he was struck by the sly and devious look on the demon’s face.

‘
What? What is it?’

‘The Gurgot has an injury,’ the little demon said, climbing up to stand on the bench so that he could be closer to the lycanthrope’s level. ‘Shentob thinks it is an old injury, but it is still bothering the nether-creature, and it has had to adopt a slightly different fighting style because of it.’

Trey waited.

‘The left arm. The Gurgot is carrying an injury in its left arm, which means that it can’t use it in the same way as its right. Instead of the arm snaking out straight like this –’ the demon demonstrated again – ‘it swings it in more of an arc: a hook rather than a jab, if you like.’ Shentob pointed his finger at Trey. ‘It wants to use that right arm. It positions itself so that it can. You must not allow it to, for it is a terrible weapon. You must circle to the Gurgot’s left
– your right.
It will not be able to set itself properly if you do so. It will lose patience. When it does, Trey Laporte will strike!’ The little demon leaned back and folded his arms.

If I can,’
Trey said.

‘You must! You can, and you will.’ Shentob stared hard at the werewolf. ‘Remember the rage and fury that you experienced a moment ago. You must use that anger to defeat this demon. It is one of three such creatures that stand between you and freedom. Three creatures that stand between you and that girl up there.’ The demon’s look was cold and steely, and Trey saw something in Shentob that he had not seen before. ‘You must forget some of the things that Lucien Charron and your friends in the human realm have taught you. You must forget them, just as your father had to forget them when he fought here. Out there –’ he pointed towards the door – ‘you must put aside some of your
human
ways and start to think and act like the nether-creature you are. If you do not, you will be killed.’

They stayed like that for a moment or two, eyes locked together, until the little demon’s face softened again and he climbed down off the bench, crossing the room to retrieve the blanket bundle from the corner where he’d placed it. ‘We must get your armour on now. Shentob will come with you and watch from the tunnel that leads to the arena. From now on he will be at your side at all times, as any good aide should be. Besides, you get a better view of the royal box from there, and old Shentob wants to watch Molok’s face when the demon lord sees you walk out wearing this!’

Trey looked down at the little demon and stretched out a hand. The demon looked at it for some time before realizing what the lycanthrope was doing. Then he reached out and wrapped his hand around two of the werewolf’s fingers. The two friends shook.

‘
Thank you, Shentob.’

The demon bowed, bending at the waist and staying that way for a second or two. When he straightened up again there were tears in his eyes. ‘No. Thank you, Trey Laporte. You have made a worthless, insignificant nether-creature very happy. And old Shentob has been unhappy for as long as he can remember.’

Two tunnels faced each other across the arena. Each fighter entered via one of these tunnels, and was transported into the arena on a small two-wheeled, open-backed carriage which, like so many other things to do with these Demon Games, Trey thought looked decidedly Roman in design and build. The chariots were drawn by a brown, two-legged, pig-like beast. Once inside the arena, they were introduced by the master of ceremonies.

Trey recognized the official as a trainer called Korg from Molok’s fighting school. The creature did a double take when he saw the werewolf walking down the tunnel towards him, dressed in the silver-and-black livery. He looked down at the clipboard in his hand, then back at Trey, his yellow eyes narrowing and deep frown lines forming on his forehead.

‘You are not in your designated armour,’ the official said.

Trey looked at the official, then at Shentob, motioning with his head for his aide to speak for him, as he’d been told was the custom.

The old demon drew himself up to his full height and addressed the official.

‘Trey Laporte fights in the colours of Theiss. The contract he has with Lord Molok states that he is to fight as champion for the demon lord. No mention was made of armour. Trey Laporte chooses to fight in the armour of his kind.’

‘If he fights for Molok, he fights in the purple colours of the school.’

‘That was not discussed during the agreement between my fighter and the demon lord.’ Shentob paused, pursing his lips as if in thought, and Trey knew that the little servant was enjoying himself again. ‘Perhaps it was an oversight by Molok?’

The demon gawped at the servant. He leaned to one side and looked down the tunnel behind Trey, hoping that it might find someone there to help it out; then he turned to look behind him, through the metal lattice of the portcullis at the noisy, expectant crowd.

‘Does Molok know about this?’ the demon hissed, turning back to address them, his eyes now wide.

A fanfare of music started up somewhere in the stands up above their heads.

‘No,’ Shentob said. ‘Perhaps you would like to delay the quarter-finals of the Games to go and have a chat with him about it.’ He tipped his head to one side and blinked at the official.

‘This is an outrage! There will be hell to pay for this!’

The heavy gate began to slide up.

Shentob looked beyond the trainer at the crowd. ‘It looks like a sell-out,’ he commented. ‘And the spectators seem eager to see the next fight. It probably wouldn’t do to have a big snag in proceedings right now.’ He shook his head. ‘Even if we
could
find the armour that Molok gave my master to wear, and I have a terrible feeling that it was left back at the school, it would take a long time to get him changed into it now.’ Shentob smiled at the master of ceremonies. ‘It’s your call, but I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if the quarterfinals had to be delayed.’ He raised a finger as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him. ‘I suppose you could disqualify Molok’s champion for not wearing the armour it says he should wear on your clipboard . . . ’

‘This is an outrage,’ the demon repeated. ‘You will die a long and painful death for this – mark my words, Shentob. You will be strung up. I’ll see to it myself!’

Shentob smiled sweetly. ‘Perhaps you’d like to know how the champion would prefer to be announced? We wouldn’t want any confusion in the crowd, would we?’ He turned round and winked at the lycanthrope, who was grinning back at him, his long pink tongue lolling from his mouth.

The official had no choice. The chariot carrying the Gurgot was already making its way into the stadium, and the crowd was on its feet. The noise was deafening. ‘Quickly!’ he said.

Shentob beckoned Korg towards him so that the demon would be able to hear the introduction he and Trey had agreed upon over the tumultuous din.

When the demon straightened up, he had the same look of disbelief on his face as when he first saw Trey.

‘You want me to introduce him like that?’

‘Yes – and don’t be changing it or making up any of your own stuff. Just do it like that.’

‘You will regret the day that you ever set foot in this arena, Shentob,’ Korg said, glaring at the servant.

‘No, I will not.’

Shentob turned his back on the master of ceremonies and indicated to Trey that he should board the chariot. ‘Hold on to these handles here. The shleb knows where it’s going and it will take you out to the central square.’

‘
Aren’t you going to wish me luck?’

‘You don’t need it, Trey Laporte. Remember what I told you about your opponent and you will be fine. Also –’ the demon paused, placing a hand on the werewolf’s forearm – ‘remember what I said. Out there, you must forget you are a human. Out there, you must fight like a nether-creature.’

Trey nodded, and the chariot began to move out of the tunnel into the arena.

The crowd had given the Gurgot a great reception, and it was clear that the creature was a favourite with the fans, many of whom had watched it battle its way through the early rounds to get here. The creature wore a yellow leather breastplate and open-faced helmet of the same colour. The yellow armour indicated that the creature fought for the demon lord Orfus – a school that was now under Caliban’s control.

Trey looked off to his left to the area where he and Shentob had sat earlier. Below an awning of purple silk were Molok and his entourage. The demon lord was on his feet, pointing down at Trey and bellowing. Even from this distance Trey could see the black flames that licked across the Hell-Kraken’s skin. A demon to Molok’s left said something to him, and Trey watched as the nether-creature careened through the air, landing in a mangled heap among spectators three or four rows down from where the demon lord had struck him.